Dual Disasters
by Amilyi
Summary: [G1] Ratchet discovers the difficulty that is twins. Please 'Read & Review'. Thank you!
1. Part One: Medical Malevolence

A/N: This is for all of you who read and reviewed 'Of Old Mechs and Unexpected Culprits' and wanted more.

* * *

**Twofold Trouble (A.K.A. Dual Distasters)**

Ratchet's day 'started off with a bang'. For Wheeljack, this was a reality and not a figure of speech. Ratchet jumped slightly at the explosion. He was used to detonations by now, especially within the proximity of his dear old friend. He just had not expected one so soon after dawn – Wheeljack usually managed to last out until late morning or the beginning of the afternoon. He was really getting in an early start today.

Jazz brought Wheeljack into the med-bay hoisted over his shoulder, laying him down on an examination table. The scientist groaned in torment – and possibly terror, as he was about to be on the receiving end of Ratchet's ungracious morning mood.

"He's all yours," Jazz said to the less-than-fully-conscious medic, and thus received the morning's fixed 'Scowl of Spitefulness'. Jazz grinned at the expression. "Oh, and here's a head's-up: th' twins went out partyin' last night an' danced wi' Rumble and Frenzy. An' the other two showed themselves up t' be the better dancers." Joy and jubilations. Ratchet's arm moved of its own accord towards an arc-welder, intent on 'shooting the messenger'. Fortunately for a certain Porsche, he had enough common sense to disappear before _he_ became one of Ratchet's patients. _Slagging saboteurs and their smug grins, even after eight megacycles of nightshifts._

Ratchet turned to Wheeljack, still wielding the arc-welder.

"And what are _you_ moaning about?" Ratchet snapped. Wheeljack groaned again, shielding his optics with his right arm and pointing to his chest cavity with his left. The chassis was severely indented in places and bits of burnt, flaking paint did not improve the inventor's aesthetic appearance. Ratchet opened him up. His internal parts were all there and most were complete, but the damage done in certain places could not be causing the Lancia any pleasure. Wheeljack was going to live; his repairs would not take too long. It was just that his friend was not very comfortable. "Well, you aren't going to be paying any visits to Primus any time soon," Ratchet grumbled affectionately, "but I _am_ in half a mind to leave you like this – perhaps then you'll take more care with what you're doing!"

"No! Please don't, Ratchet!" Wheeljack coughed, stretching out a hand to try and grab the medic's arm. His co-ordination missed its intended target. Ratchet would have to check Wheeljack's co-ordination circuits.

"Fine! Fine!" Ratchet groused, submitting to his friend's pleas all too quickly. He shook the arc-welder up and down with every syllable. "But if you dare so much as groan once more throughout your repairs, I'll-"

"Morning, merry medic!" Sideswipe called cheerily, his hand raised in greeting as he entered the med-bay. Enraged that his brilliant threat had been cut short before its climax, Ratchet threw the arc-welder at Sideswipe just as Sunstreaker sidled up alongside his brother. Non-plussed, they watched it go sailing between them.

"You need to improve your aim," Sunstreaker said nonchalantly.

"And _you_ need to improve your timing _and_ your manners! What have _you_ been up to?" The CMO seethed before half-recalling Jazz's words. He looked them up and down: lots of dents, lots of scrapes, some gaping holes, some leaking fluids… nothing too serious; he could work on his friend first and make the Disastrous Duo wait. "No – no, don't tell me. The less I know the better, yes? You know the routine: wait until I get around to you." Wheeljack got in another moan before Ratchet could make his yet un-heard threat official. For a full three seconds, the twins managed to stay silent.

"Frenzy got his pile drivers pretty far up your aft – what did you do, bend over for him?" Sunstreaker sneered.

"Yeah I was bending over – bending over for _you_! I was getting Rumble off your chassis while you were just laying there, taking it on your back. You didn't seem very unwilling from the lack of fight _you_ put up!" Sideswipe rebuked. "And if you're going to sham a groan of pain, the noise is 'arrgh' not 'ooh'."

"You slagging turbine tosser! I don't care what you say, nobody stands with their legs _that_ far apart unless-"

"I see both of you have a strong yearning to be rebuilt as Skodas," Ratchet wryly noted without looking up from fixing Wheeljack. The twins suddenly became more silent than Wheeljack's lab before an imminent (and spectacular) explosion. _But hopefully those two won't 'imminently or spectacularly explode'_, the Lancia thought to himself. The inventor chuckled weakly and immediately regretted it because of the pain. He regretted it doubly when his shaking caused Ratchet's instruments to collide with some of his more sensitive wounds.

"Ow."

"Then _don't move_," Ratchet poked 'Jack's mask exasperatedly. The 'Scowl of Spitefulness' had not grown any thinner since Jazz had left. For the warriors, the serenity had lasted long enough. Sideswipe turned to Sunstreaker. Too bored (or attention deficit) to continue their previous argument, they began a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

"Rock beats scissors," Sunstreaker stated.

"Paper beats rock."

"Paper beats rock."

"Draw." Ratchet wished they could do their little game without the running commentary.

"Scissors beats paper."

"Draw."

"Draw."

"…And what the slag is _that_ supposed to be?"

"It's paper!" Sunstreaker scowled.

"Nah – it's scissors, and rock beats scissors."

"I told you, it's _paper_!"

"_That_ vague hand signal? That was scissors!"

"Oh, you want a _hand signal_? Well here's one that beats 'em all!" Ratchet could feel the maturity in his med-bay decreasing by the astro-second. And it seemed to be imbibed by two Lamborghini twins – like some kind of osmosis – but with maturity instead of water. Ratchet could also feel his forbearance decreasing by the astro-second, though that certainly was not being absorbed anywhere or by anyone.

"Skodas don't come in that shade of yellow, do they?" Ratchet said to the room at large. "And I certainly don't think that they have enough room for jet packs." Once more, there were three, _blissful_ seconds of silence. Then the twins began again.

* * *

Wheeljack, fully repaired, trotted off to see if his lab still existed or whether Grapple would need to rebuild it and the surrounding decks. Ratchet half waved, half shooed him away and with the dejected sigh of a mech that had just resigned himself to a fate worse than a date with a car-crushing facility, he turned towards the gold and garnet twins. 'Gold' was busy preening himself by the reflection in an unused medical monitor. 'Garnet' busied himself with picking up Ratchet's more menacing implements and jabbing them towards his brother's pretty face. This could only end in disaster. Sunstreaker managed to pull himself away from his image long enough to realize Ratchet was staring at them.

"Wo'choolookinat?"

"The very image of a Lamborghini lithium leper if I'm not mistaken," Ratchet quipped. Sunstreaker's jaw dramatically dropped down, as did his brow. The medic cracked his knuckles and smiled vindictively "Now which one of you wants to suffer my terse touch first?" Sideswipe became the epitome of seriousness and took a step forward.

"I'm mech enough," the red twin said, pounding a damaged fist once against his scratched chestplate. "_I'll_ go first."

"No you won't – I've got patrol in a mega-cycle and you're not making me late again."

"We're on the _same_ patro-!" Ratchet grabbed Sideswipe around the mouth and dragged him backwards onto an examination table. The mech stood awkwardly with his back laid flat on the surface. Sunstreaker returned to his reflection, knowing better than to argue with an irate medic.

"Legs up," the CMO demanded, beginning work before the command was even fulfilled.

"Y'know bro, next time we go up against Rumble and Frenzy, you can take both those brothers," Sideswipe said far too politely.

"Why? Just one of the little runts too much for you?" Sunstreaker scowled. The mech on the examination table broke into an expansive grin.

"No, I'll just be holding the video camera. I'm sure that many a mech here in the base would pay to see _that_ Threesom-"

"Just shut it!" Ratchet bellowed, turning off Sideswipe's vocal processor. He rounded on the other twin. Sunstreaker had already closed the gap between them and the monitor where he had been grooming. He stood only inches away from Ratchet. "And don't you even _think_ of retaliating if you want to be repaired!" With every one of Ratchet's words, Sideswipe shook his head behind him in mock sternness. Reluctantly, the yellow Lamborghini sat back down and sulked. For the next half a mega-cycle, the twins amused themselves by making obscene facial gestures at one another. Ratchet managed to be rid of them before they unraveled that last, lone and worn thread that was his sanity.

* * *

A/N: This chapter has been edited for spelling (though no doubt I've missed something). Other chapters are subject to the same nit-picking. You know you prefer legible fiction. Go on – admit it. 


	2. Part Two: Unwanted Attention

A/N: Currently at university a week before everything kicks off, I have nothing to do apart from the important things. Here is part two - short and sweet.

* * *

Everyone and the world moved out of the way of the two Lamborghinis speeding their way through the desert.

"Jet judo practice – we're gonna get some more jet judo practice!" Sunstreaker quivered with excitement. Decepticon seekers had been sighted making trouble in the suburbs of Portland, for no other reason than to terrorise the humans it seemed. Well, everyone needed a hobby. Optimus had sent the twins to join Cliffjumper, Brawn, Huffer and Windcharger at the Decepticons' location.

"Heh – we don't need practice – we're the masters!"

"I'd like to agree with you on that one but our last session didn't exactly go according to plan."

"Ah, yeah," Sideswipe remembered. Thundercracker had flown under a low bridge and knocked Sideswipe off, whilst Starscream had flown through some pylon cables, deftly avoiding them but tangling Sunstreaker up over a large body of water. It had taken more than Inferno's ladder to get him down from up there.

They turned into the suburbs and slowed pace, if only to avoid skidding around corners.

"Hey, is that Ironhide up ahead?" Sunstreaker slowed his speed.

"Looks like it is, Sunny! Think we have time to stop by and say 'hello' before we go destroy some seekers?"

"Hmmm… we have a moment. Won't hurt to stop on our way there." And so both sports cars stopped – very suddenly and right in the middle of the road. "Hi granddad." The van said nothing.

"Awww… you're not blanking us are you, Ironhide?" Sideswipe moped.

"…Get out o' here yer li'l slaggers! Ah'm on a stake-out!" The red van hissed.

"Huh. 'Steak-out'?" Sideswipe queried. "Is that like a 'take-out'? Why would you need to eat steak?"

"He means stake – the _wooden_ variety you fool!"

"I don't see any of those either."

"Jus' get out o' here before you blow mah cover!"

"Oh, I think your big red Autobot symbol will do that just fine." Sunstreaker said, eyeing the decals.

"Ah'm gonna-!"

"Bye granddad!" Sideswipe laughed, speeding away again. They rounded the corner and Sideswipe saw something that suddenly made him stop.

Three females in their mid to late teens, scantily dressed and with all the moral hindrances of an accident-compensational-claims lawyer, stood by a sign reading: CAR WASH - $6 FOR BASICKS $12 FOR FULL WERKS. A cynic might say that these three had spent so much time selling their bodies to learn how to spell basically. Sideswipe was too busy looking at what they were currently _not_ selling to care. He had an idea. He transformed, making sure to duck low so that Ironhide would not see him over the houses. "Afternoon ladies!" The teenagers shrieked ear-piercingly high with excitement and ran over to his foot.

"Sideswipe, what are you _doing_?" Sunstreaker hissed, wanting to get to the seekers before they moved on.

"One moment bro," he answered, grinning charmingly at the females. "I was wondering if you three would like to do an old mech a favour."

"Aw, you don't look that old to me!" One of the females said, adding half a dozen more syllables than necessary to her last word.

"Eheh – I wasn't talking about me – there's an ancient, sluggish, clapped-out, rusty, cob-web-ridden, broken-down, moldy…no wait, that's going a bit too far. Well, there's a red van around the corner. I want you to give him the 'full werks'. He's been a bit moody lately – keeps saying he's 'too ahld fer active duty' and only good for 'maintenance an' stake-outs' and blah blah blah. If he complains, just ignore him – he likes the attention really. Here's twelve dollars. If you do a good job, I'll come back tomorrow and double it." At a loss for words as these three obviously did not know too many to begin with, they shrieked once more and pressed their bodies against his leg in some kind of semblance of a hug. "Inside and out, thanks – front _and_ back."

"Bye bye!" They called, grabbing buckets of soapy water, sponges, a hoover and wax. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker rounded the corner enough to see what they were doing to Ironhide. Covered in soapy suds, the van was getting a full wash down, the bodies of the three teenagers pressing against him with needlessly close proximity. Ironhide was cussing and shaking violently, trying to get rid of the girls.

"Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! Ah know yer listenin'! When ah get mah hands on you two, yer dead mechs!" He roared. The twins broke down into hysterics.

"Need to go!" Sunstreaker sniggered, driving off as his brother transformed. "I hope those mini-bots have left us a piece of the action."

* * *

A/N: Ironhide is one of those characters that has snuck up on me from out of the blue. He seems so natural to write and though he is not currently one of my favourites, he certainly is getting his share of the attention (see also: Of Old Mechs and Unexpected Culprits). Love him! 


	3. Part Three: Hospital Horrors

A/N: Last, longest and (in my opinion) least funny of the three. You have been warned.

* * *

"Where have _you two_ been? You've missed all of the action!" Brawn told Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as they pulled up. As Sunstreaker transformed, he thought he could see a line of dark smoke twisting away through the distant sky. 

"Please tell me we didn't just miss them," Sunstreaker sighed.

"Then I won't," Ratchet snarled as he stood up from behind a fallen building. "Now get over here and make yourselves useful – there are civilians trapped underneath this rubble!" The twins did as they were told.

"When did you get here?" Sideswipe asked.

"As soon as possible after I was called out, unlike the both of you it seems," Ratchet retorted. "Red Alert and Inferno are around here somewhere as well. You can go bother them when I'm done with you." As Ratchet fell silent, Sideswipe thought he could hear the security director's voice muttering and Inferno occasionally interjecting a response. Here and there, they could hear human voices calling from beneath the rubble. Emergency services would arrive soon to help.

Sideswipe went to move a wooden beam.

"No! Don't move that! It's the only thing keeping the rest of the house from collapsing," Huffer cried out. Sideswipe removed his hands from the beam and sighed. He was bored already.

"You two get over here!" Ratchet demanded, parting debris with his hands and pulling out three limp figures. They were still breathing. "Keep searching in there while I tend to these three," he told them and moved away to an open space.

"Lucky dip, bro?" Sunstreaker asked, morbidly joking about the situation. Sideswipe grimaced and put his hand into the hole, feeling around. Nothing.

"Let's try somewhere else around here," Sideswipe said. They found another house completely flattened, where part of Skywarp's wing stood protruding from the ground.

"Next time, no matter how tempting, we don't stop to say 'hi' to anyone on the way to the party," Sunstreaker glowered.

"I think that was your idea, bro."

"No, it was your idea."

"Well, you pointed out Ironhide in the first place."

"Well you made the decision to go up to him!"

"Well you went along with it!"

"Quiet! I can't hear the humans over your arguing!" Red Alert scolded. Red and Yellow scowled at him, then at each other. Gingerly, they pulled back the wooden beams and plaster to find a lone figure sitting in a pocket where the house had not fallen flat.

"Oh! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" The figure thanked, then ran off to the roadside, apparently uninjured.

"I think he was grateful," Sideswipe cunningly deduced.

"I think so too." Sunstreaker replied, then noticed smashed, tinted yellow glass from a plane's cockpit littering the ground under his feet. For three seconds, there was perfect silence between the brothers. "If you hadn't stopped for those fleshy females, we would have probably gotten here just in time for the finale," Sunstreaker sneered.

"But Ironhide's reaction! It was worth it and you think so too!"

"What did you two do to Ironhide?" Windcharger queried as he pulled a smashed-up car aside.

"Nothing!" Both said at once. Which was technically true: it was what the three females had done to him.

"Ratchet!" Inferno called. "I've found something weird over here!" The twins dashed to have a look.

"Urrgh – what's that?" Sunstreaker sneered.

"It probably thinks the same of you," Inferno chuckled.

"It looks like a human female – but it's all swollen!" Sideswipe stared. The female lay on her back in a pool of water from a burst pipe. She was completely dazed and although she was blearily staring up directly at them, she had no idea what was going on, or that there were in fact three robots kneeling, gawking over her. Then Ratchet put his face in.

"She's pregnant," he surmised. The pregnant female locked onto Ratchet's face…and started screaming. "We're all crowding her – move back, move back."

"I noticed she didn't start screaming until Ratchet stuck his faceplate into hers," Sideswipe reported. Sunstreaker nodded in entire agreement.

"Slag off," Ratchet said bluntly, returning to the woman. "Madam – madam, we're here to help. The ones who attacked you are gone. Are you in pain? Are you injured?" The woman convulsed. She would not stop screaming. "I need to get her to a hospital." Red Alert stood to one side, his security sensors suddenly flashing.

"Prowl sends reports of Soundwave and his cassettes at the power station between here and Portland's town centre. The most direct route to the hospital is along that same highway."

"I don't think we have time to take the extra half-hour route," Ratchet muttered. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, I'll need you for an escort." The twins perked up to no end. Sunstreaker was positively beaming.

"Hey – we might get to see some action after all!"

* * *

"Aw, Ratchet, Sunstreaker said he was sorry," Sideswipe whined. His brother had gone into a full-on sulk and was refusing to talk to anybody. Both Lamborghinis had sustained battle damage and Ratchet had a large weapon burn down his one side along with a deflating tyre. 

"I don't care! We were not attacked! We _were not attacked_! At least, not until you pulled over, transformed and fired those shots at Soundwave!" Ratchet raged at Sunstreaker. "You were supposed to escort me to the _hospital_ – _not_ into Primus's arms!"

"We're here now, aren't we?" Sideswipe said as meekly as he could manage.

"Little slaggers…" Ratchet muttered under his vocaliser. A group of humans in uniform filtered out of the hospital and took the pregnant female out of Ratchet's interior. As soon as she was indoors, Ratchet and the twins transformed. One of the human nurses had remained.

"Hello there sir, could you please tell us a little bit about the patient you just brought to us?" The nurse asked. Ratchet had been through this procedure before. He knew exactly what to say.

"We found her buried under a house – hers I think – after a Decepticon attack in the suburbs about twenty-five miles out of Portland, due west. No signs of bleeding, broken bones…" The two warriors had stopped listening and were currently peering in through the many windows in the hospital. Some humans ran to draw curtains, others – especially the children's ward – ran to the window, leaning out and cheering. This only served to feed the two Autobots' egos.

"…Thank you sir, we'll take good care of her. I'm sorry there is nothing we can do to help you," the nurse said to Ratchet, eyeing up the battle damage on all three Autobots.

"Oh, don't worry – I'll make sure that these two get 'help'." Ratchet's dark tone was foreboding. Then, as the nurse went back inside, he drew his weapon of choice: an arc-welder.

"Ratchet, no! There are children watching!" Sideswipe wailed and took a step back, only half in jest. Ratchet was adamant that these twins needed his own special brand of 'medical attention'. Some would call what Ratchet had planned 'medical malpractice'. Ratchet called it 'deserved'.

Sunstreaker was used to the dear doctor's temper tantrums by now and no longer gave him the attention Sideswipe thought he so warranted. He occasionally gave a sidelong glance in the direction of Ratchet and his brother, just in case a medical implement was hurtling its way towards his paintjob, but mainly he stood in front of the window, soaking up the adulation of the children and a few of the adults.

"You're a healer, not a hurter," Sideswipe tried to pacify Ratchet, who was currently stroking the arc-welder from end to end and turning it over in his hands. "You don't really want to kill me, do you?"

"No – not yet anyway. Do you know how far this little-"

"It's not little."

"-instrument will fit up your aft?"

"Uh, no… I don't think it _will_ fit." A glint came into Ratchet's optics. His vision scanned from the red twin to the yellow.

"Me neither. But let's find out sha- oh by The Matrix, no!" Ratchet extended an arm in absolute panic in Sunstreaker's direction. Sunstreaker looked puzzled then turned to the hospital window, a look of sheer horror also commencing across his faceplate. One of the children was standing on the window ledge, hospital clothes brushing back and forth in the slight breeze. The child was five floors up. The other children squealed in delight.

"I'm gonna jump – I'm gonna jump!"

"Catch it!" Ratchet shouted at Sunstreaker. All too late, a nurse rushed over to the window and tried to grab the kid. The child jumped. Sunstreaker stumbled forwards none too elegantly and caught the creature. It laughed.

"That was fantastic! Again! Again!" There was a simultaneous, audible sigh from the adults that had been watching from their respective windows. The relief was short lived. The braver children climbed out onto the window and also began throwing themselves off in a display not too dissimilar to a hoard of suicidal hamsters. Sunstreaker caught a few and Ratchet and Sideswipe ran over to catch the rest.

"Look at what you've done – look at what you make people do!" Ratchet shouted at the twins. He did the sensible thing and blocked the window with his hand to prevent any more possible suicides.

"Me?" Sideswipe asked incredulously. "But I-"

"Listen kids, I know how they make you feel – I feel exactly the same way – but they aren't worth killing yourselves over, trust me: I've thought about this long and hard over the millennia I have had contact with them and decided that's exactly what they _want_."

"No it's n-"

"So the 'April Fools' stunt was not a cunning ploy to drive me over the edge?"

"It was only a day," Sunstreaker replied flatly, putting the children he had caught onto the ground where relieved nurses and doctors awaited them.

"You made it a _month_!"

"April _is_ a month: no-one told me it only lasted a day," Sidswipe mumbled, making sure his twin was between himself and Ratchet.

"Grrr!" The CMO tentatively took his hand away from the window: it had been shut by some of the staff and a dozen children sulked together, staring out at him from the other side of the glass pane. Ratchet now had a free hand… and he knew exactly what to do with it. With startling speed he wrapped it around Sideswipe's neck and began throttling him. Ratchet thought he could hear something quietly rattling around inside the red twin's head – possibly his CPU. The medic decided to make it his task to make the thing rattle louder. Sideswipe was currently lifting a foot between himself and Ratchet's chassis in an attempt to force the red and white mech away. Sunstreaker looked on in amusement and did nothing to help either 'bot.

"Ah, sirs!" The same male nurse from before called to them. Ratchet continued shaking Sideswipe as he turned to look at the uniformed human.

"Yes?" Ratchet said as politely as he could manage to someone who was interrupting his 'therapy'.

"The woman you rescued earlier would like to see you – she's in the ward two floors up, just around the corner." Ratchet stopped shaking.

"Oh."

* * *

The three Autobots rounded the corner and just like before, people ran to draw curtains or cheered out of the window. Fearing a repeat of before, Ratchet decided the sooner they left the hospital, the better. 

"Which window?" Ratchet muttered, looking at the stretch of second floor windows. Another nurse poked her head out.

"Over here!" She called. The twins raced ahead and knelt down, twisting their bodies so that they could get a better look.

"Out of my way, daffodil – you're blocking my view!"

"I was here first you overripe tomato!" Sunstreaker pushed his brother away and Sideswipe would have put his hand through the hospital's outer wall had Ratchet not caught him.

"Stop it before you hurt someone!" Ratchet growled. The Autobot medic knelt down himself and elbowed both brothers out of the way. The twins peered in from behind him.

"Ooo," the two said together.

The woman from before was cradling two silent bundles in her arms. She looked overwhelmed but elated. She had given birth to twins.

"I was trying for a home birth," she said in a quiet, exhausted voice, "but those Decepticons soon put a stop to that. Thank you all: I couldn't move and must've been knocked out – these two little blighters wanted to come at the worst possible moment!"

"Name them after us!" Sideswipe said with great enthusiasm.

"That seems appropriate," Ratchet snorted.

"Yeah – Sunstreaker and Ruby-Rear!"

"No – Sideswipe and Pompous-Parts!" Sideswipe jostled his brother. His brother physically and verbally retaliated.

"No – Sunstreaker and Sluggish-Psyche!"

"No – Sideswipe and Custard-Capacitor!" If Ratchet did not step in soon, it would become an all-out fight.

"No – Sunstreaker and Crimson-Catastrophe!"

"No – Sideswipe and Sulky-Slagger!"

For an outstretched moment, Ratchet said nothing. He looked at the beetroot bundles in the woman's arms, then at the gold and garnet mechs, then back at the female.

"Lady," he said at last, "I pity you."

End.

* * *

A/N: I think if I had the chance to see a 40 foot robot once and only once, I too might try to jump into their arms (after giving them prior warning I was going to do so). And hamsters are suicidal folks – I discovered this after babysitting one night; I let the hamster roam the lounge whilst I checked on the kids upstairs, naively believing that it would stay on the floor. I returned less than three minutes later to find it flailing from a curtain two metres up in the air. The only thing I could do was catch it in my arms, breaking its fall. Then it managed to climb the inside of a curtain without my knowledge and hurtled one-and-a-half metres downwards only to be stopped the last half metre by a window ledge. It made a sort of hollow knocking sound, then carried on as if these drops were a part of everyday hamster life. It scared the hell out of me, especially as it wasn't my pet. Be vigilant for your hamsters folks, as they do not like this corporeal plane and wish to shuffle off of it as quickly as possible. (Said hamster eventually made a dash for freedom, escaping into the back-garden. Apparently, the curtain-fall did not hinder it, let-alone hurt it.) 


End file.
